28-years-old. Over ten years of career experience. Seven major festival dates successfully performed. And still, Cosima Niehaus finds herself on the bathroom floor, spewing like an amateur.

Her head is in a toilet this time, at least, as opposed to the trashcan. She can consider that some small victory.

The hurling passes much quicker than it had years ago. After a few good heaves, she sits up and takes a deep, greedy breath.

"Shit," she groans quietly to herself, stomach still rebelling with short, persistent twists.

There's a sudden knock on the door. The guitarist flinches at the soft, familiar voice that calls out to her.

"Cosima? Are you all right?"

"Y-yeah," she says, clearing her throat. Quickly, she tears a strip of toilet paper from the dispenser. "Be out in a couple minutes." In spite of this assertion, the door jars open just a second later. Embarrassed, Cosima blushes furiously, wiping her forehead and mouth.

Delphine doesn't say anything—doesn't need to. She simply rubs Cosima's back in slow circles, waiting patiently for her humiliation to subside. It's not until the toilet has been flushed, and Cosima turns sheepishly to face her, that Delphine sighs.

"Sorry," the brunette mutters, slipping past to turn on the faucet and rinse her mouth.

"You don't have to apologize," Delphine insists, tugging on one of her dreads. "I just wish you wouldn't get sick like this." Frowning, she adds. "Not that you can help it."

Spitting into the sink a few times, Cosima shakes her head and chuckles. "I should be used to it by now. Most people would be."

"You're not most people," Delphine tells her. When Cosima meets the blonde's eyes then, her mouth hitches into a soft smile. She can see the pride in her eyes, and smiles back.

"I'm much more of a basket-case, apparently."

"No, you're not. This is the first time you've gotten sick in a while." Delphine rolls her eyes. Brow dipping, she leans against the sink and asks. "What's so different about this time? You've played this festival for the past three years."

Cosima falls back against the door, eyebrows raised. "I have, sure. But this is, like…I don't know. It feels like the first time."

Delphine considers this for a moment. "It's our first time together."

"Yeah. It is. And—" Intuitively sensing the oncoming torrent of nervous energy, Delphine steps forward and takes Cosima's hands in hers. The calming effect is instant, but not quite enough to erase her anxieties completely. "This is our album, Delphine. I'm already nervous enough about the release next week. But playing these songs live for the first time is just—"

Delphine cuts her off. "Deep breath," she says quietly. Cosima opens her mouth as if to protest, to continue on, but forces herself to shut it again just a moment later. "That's it. Keep doing that."

For late April, the temperature is unseasonably hot. And inside of the press tent, it is near stifling.

With the cameras trained on her, an overly chic journalist beaming at her shrewdly, Cosima clutches the stick-mic like a lifeline. Delphine edges slightly closer, their knees knocking together as she answers their most recent question with eloquence and ease.

"You two have done an excellent job of keeping this release under wraps, for all the hype you've generated. It's been very low key."

Delphine chuckles. "I guess so, yes. It's not necessarily that we're trying to keep it some big secret. We're just… very excited. And we'd like people to be surprised."

"Surprised," the journalist repeats, curious. "There's definitely been plenty of speculation. We all know you've toured with each other occasionally over the past few years, and have made appearances on each other's solo albums. But I think everyone is still wondering what it will be like for you to have gone full-throttle on a project together—what the voice of Pines will be like, compared to Nautilus or Delphine Cormier."

"It's different," Cosima says simply. "But not really." Delphine laughs. Glancing over, she asks, "What? It is."

"That's so vague," Delphine tells her, amused.

Cosima shrugs, grinning. "You know I'm terrible at putting these things into words."

"I know what you're trying to say though." Turning back to the reporter, Delphine explains, "There's layers. On one hand, you have mine and Cosima's voices, just as you've come to know them in our solo work. I think that's very apparent. But on the other hand, those two voices have merged to create something entirely new. It's a very... evolved—I think is the right word. A very evolved album for us, personally. All this familiarity, mired in newness."

After a pause, Cosima says, "Well, that's pretty much what I said." Then, grinning, she tells the journalist, "She's better at this than I am," eliciting an eye-roll from Delphine.

"Will this project signify an end to your solo work?"

Cosima is quick to answer. "No, definitely not. We write too much music to just box it into one project."

"And not every song we write will fit into a Pines album," Delphine adds. "We've talked about this a lot. Right now, this is our primary focus. It just makes sense to us."

"Yeah," Cosima nods enthusiastically. "This is so new for us, you know—the whole experience of recording together. It's exciting. When we play together, we really feel like we bring out the best in each other, creatively." Turning to Delphine then, she smiles. "Right?"

Delphine can only nod, grinning back at her with confidence.

"I don't want to fuck up."

Cosima is surprised, and mildly affronted, when Delphine laughs at this admission.

"Hey!"

"Come here." When Cosima attempts to squirm out of her grip, the blonde tugs her closer, kissing her cheek. "I'm sorry. I just—I know you won't. You're not going to fuck up. You always say that, but it never happens."

"Except when it does."

"Rarely," Delphine insists, exasperated. After a pause, she kisses Cosima. "So what if you do?"

"So what?"

"Yeah," Delphine shrugs. "If we screw up—if they don't like it—I don't care."

"Bullshit."

"No," the blonde swears. "Look at me—I don't."

Cosima peers into her eyes inquisitively. After a moment, she raises her eyebrows. "Huh. I don't see any fucks in there."

Delphine chuckles. "We already made the album, Cosima. And I love it. Really."

After a moment, Cosima sighs, shaking her head with a smile. "I do, too. Like, I'm in love with it."

"It's incredible," Delphine says, leaning closer.

"It is."

"So who cares—" The blonde brushes their noses together, Cosima tugging her flush against her body. "Who cares if the press doesn't like it?"

"Or the In Vitro fans—"

Delphine laughs. "That doesn't matter. None of it does."

Cosima shivers lightly, parting her lips in anticipation. "No, it doesn't," she agrees. She's starting to mean it.

"This brings up another line of questioning," the journalist says, unabashedly. They already know what she intends to talk about, of course. Delphine shrugs. "I have to ask."

"Everyone does," Cosima drawls. "Eventually."

"Well, can you blame us?" The journalist chuckles. "You've had a fairly publicized relationship. There's been so much talk these past few years."

Cosima rolls her eyes slightly, smiling. "I still get people telling me I Yoko-Onoed In Vitro."

"No," Delphine contends. "You can't Yoko the Ringo." She glances at the reporter then, tilting her head slightly. "That's what our bandmates always say."

The journalist laughs. "You don't seem much like a Ringo to me."

"She's way prettier," Cosima says unconsciously, feeling emboldened by Delphine's mild blush.

After a pause, collecting herself in both the heat and Cosima's adoration, the blonde says seriously, "I didn't leave In Vitro for anybody but myself. Did I make that decision with other people in mind? Yes—because it allowed me the freedom to pursue other projects and relationships. But there was no ultimatum."

"And trust me when I say, I was as surprised by that news as everybody else," Cosima appends, smirking.

"I just wanted to be on my own musically. I was reluctant to even begin Pines."

"Were you," the journalist asks.

"I'm insufferable, is what she's getting at," Cosima says cheekily.

"She is," Delphine agrees fondly. The reporter laughs. "I love my independence. And when I left In Vitro, I felt like I had something to prove. I really did. To go from being the drummer of a hugely successful band to a solo artist playing small clubs—it's jarring. I don't think many people had high expectations."

"I did," Cosima says earnestly.

"That's because you produced the album. You had a stake in it, too." Delphine pauses thoughtfully. After a moment, she shrugs. "I kind of figured we'd end up doing this at some point. We've been touring together on and off for three years in addition to—you know—everything else. But I didn't want to make this commitment until I felt people could respect me on my own."

"I don't think you have to worry about that now," the reporter says.

"No." Delphine's voice is certain as she continues. "I know others respect my music. I respect it now, too. That's big for me." She smiles suddenly, Cosima grinning with pride beside her, and chuckles. "I still kind of feel like people were expecting an In Vitro knockoff."

"Oh my god." Cosima laughs, too. "That album was, like, so far from In Vitro."

"And Pines," the journalist asks knowingly.

"Even farther."

It always happens like this. One moment they're kissing tenderly, romantically. Whispering chaste, encouraging thoughts to each other.

The next moment, Delphine is on her knees, one of Cosima's legs hooked over her shoulder as she laves the brunette's slick folds with her tongue.

It might be crass. She'd like for them to be doing this somewhere other than a bathroom—preferably back at their hotel, or even better, in the comfort of their San Francisco apartment. However, comfort is sometimes a luxury. And with the immolating heat of their passion, the frisson of their pre-performance anticipation, it would be masochistic not to succumb.

At least, that's what she tells herself.

Cosima's hips lurch against her as she sucks gently on her clit. "Fuck," the brunette groans, dipping her fingers into her scalp. Seeking more pressure, she pulls Delphine's face closer. Her girlfriend, however, resists, continuing on with her maddeningly unhurried pace. "Babe—sh-shit." Her eyes screw shut, the back of her head hitting the door harder than she'd intended. Delphine chuckles, the vibrations causing another spike of need to lance through her.

Cosima's voice wavers. "You're cruel." The blonde responds with a playful nip. "Oh my god."

She's ready to break, and Delphine is ready to relent, to caress her more fervently. Before she has the chance, however, there's a sudden pounding on the door.

Three voices holler at them from the other side.

"Oi!"

"Quit your shaggin'!"

"Pants up, ladies!"

They should be surprised, or embarrassed—mortified, more like. But both are so used to these types of humbling interruptions that they can only sigh.

Looking down at Delphine, Cosima shakes her head, a note of desperation in her voice. "I'm fucking dying. I'm serious."

"I know," Delphine says apologetically, stroking her thigh. "Just ignore them. They'll go away."

Immediately, Sarah shouts through the door, laughing, "No, we won't!"

"Oh god." Cosima groans, covering her face with her hands.

After a moment, her agitation mounting, Delphine pounds once on the door, hard. "Five minutes!" It's not a request.

They can hear the hushed deliberation on the other side. Twenty seconds pass, both holding their breath, aching, before Sarah sighs.

Finally, Felix tells them, "Five minutes is all you'll get. Any longer, and I'm sending Sarah in after you."

"Don't enjoy yourselves too much," Tony calls. "You still need to walk onstage."

They wait a few moments, until they're certain the others are gone.

Delphine looks up at Cosima then, hands on her hips, reaching around to squeeze her ass. "Still into it?" Cosima nods eagerly. The blonde chuckles, eyes darkening. "Let's not waste another moment."

"I'm curious now. I think you each have a very distinct voice. And on your solo albums, you've explored very different themes."

"Definitely," Cosima nods.

"I can honestly say, when I listen to a Nautilus album, it plays very much as a narrative. I felt the same way when listening to your album, Delphine. So, I'm curious what story you'll choose to tell on the Pines debut."

Cosima and Delphine look knowingly at each other. Finally, Cosima shrugs, smiling coyly.

When she turns back to the reporter, she explains, "There's a lot of firsts on this album. We pushed each other. Like, when I've written songs in the past, I've usually written them from someone else's point of view. And sometimes that person was real, but mostly it was just a character I had made up.

"Delphine and I spent so much time talking our way to this record. I mean—just asking each other a million questions. It was very confessional. Which… in retrospect, I don't think my Nautilus albums have been—not entirely. Everything I wrote for this album, though, was from my perspective. I wrote every song as Cosima."

"So it's more personal for you?"

"Yeah," she nods. Then, laughing, "Almost frighteningly so."

"She even wrote love songs," Delphine teases.

"No," Cosima contests. "I wrote relationship songs. There's a difference."

"Keep telling yourself that." Turning to the journalist, she says, "She hates love songs."

"I do not."

The journalist chuckles. "What is the difference?"

Cosima sighs. "A love song is like, 'I wanna hold you for a thousand years. I can see inside your soul. Your kisses taste like sunshine.' It's super cheesy. But a relationship song is more like, 'I accidentally got plastered with my cousin and puked on our bed, and you called me an asshole, but then came and slept on the bathroom floor with me anyway.' I love that shit."

The journalist pauses, narrowing her eyes in thought. "I see." Then, turning slowly to Delphine, she asks, "Did she really puke on your bed?"

Before the blonde can answer, Cosima covers her mouth and grins. "No comment."

Despite their bandmates' claims, nobody says a word when they emerge from the bathroom, hearts still pounding, a full minute after their allotted time has expired. Cosima is grateful. While most of her nerves had abated under Delphine's ministrations, a few anxieties linger. She'd like just to bask in the quiet the blonde affords her for a moment longer.

The crowd is already roaring though. The oppressive heat has made them more fervent than usual—more temperamental. She's already heard of a couple smaller acts having walked off the stage with their heads held in shame earlier this evening.

It's later now, and the audience will be hot and restless enough that they'll either love or hate the performance; and no matter the outcome, they'll do so with a passion.

Cosima and Delphine stand in the darkness of the wings for ten minutes, hands clasped tightly together. Sarah, Felix, and Tony join them just before show time.

"Are you ready," Felix asks, the question mostly directed at Cosima.

"Yeah," she nods, Delphine squeezing her hand.

"Good."

"You?"

Felix grins charmingly. "I was born ready, darling."

The stage manager pokes his head through the curtain a moment later, his bulky earpiece already in place. "We're ready for you guys. So is the crowd." Cosima gives him a thumbs up, and he disappears again with a nod.

Tony claps both Cosima and Delphine on the shoulder, gesturing towards the curtain. "Ladies first." Sarah punches his shoulder immediately.

"Hey!" He flinches, glaring pointedly at the drummer. "I meant non-violent ladies first."

She rolls her eyes. "He's right. You two do the honors."

Cosima nods back at her, taking a deep breath. Then, her eyes fall on Delphine.

Delphine, who is smiling. Delphine, who is unafraid.

The blonde leans down, pecking her on the lips. With a light tug of the hand, she says, "C'mon. Let's knock their socks off."

"Yeah," Cosima agrees. "Let's."

Cosima, who is smiling right back. Cosima, who is afraid, but quickly forgetting why.

AN: Well, this is it folks. I just want to say how sincerely thankful I am to all who have read and commented on this story. Since I began, I've made some really awesome friends in clone club, and feel super grateful for this neat little experience. My heart is so full.

Thank you all!